No More Parades 12 страница

“I stand for monogamy and chastity. And for no talking about it. Of course if a man who's a man wants to have a woman he has her. And again no talking about it…! ” His voice—his own voice—came to him as if from the other end of a long-distance telephone. A damn long-distance one! Ten years…

If then a man who's a man wants to have a woman… Damn it, he doesn't! In ten years he had learnt that a Tommie who's a decent fellow… His mind said at one and the same moment, the two lines running one over the other like the two subjects of a fugue:

“Some beguiling virgins with the broken seals of perjury, ” and:

“Since when we stand side by side, only hands may meet. ”

He said:

“But damn it; damn it again! The beastly fellow was wrong! Our hands didn't meet… I don't believe I've shaken hands… I don't believe I've touched the girl… in my life… Never once! … Not the hand-shaking sort… A nod! … A meeting and parting! … English, you know… But yes! she put her arm over my shoulders… On the bank! … On such short acquaintance! I said to myself then… Well, we've made up for it since then. Or no! Not made up! … Atoned… As Sylvia so aptly put it; at that moment mother was dying…”

He, his conscious self, said:

“But it was probably the drunken brother… You don't beguile virgins with the broken seals of perjury in Kensington High Street at two at night supporting, one on each side, a drunken bluejacket with intermittent legs…”

“Intermittent! ” was the word. “Intermittently functioning! ”

At one point the boy had broken from them and run with astonishing velocity along the dull wood paving of an immense empty street. When they had caught him up he had been haranguing under black trees, with an Oxford voice, an immobile policeman:

“You're the fellows! ” he'd been exclaiming, “who make old England what she is! You keep the peace in our homes! You save us from the vile excesses…”

Tietjens himself he had always addressed with the voice and accent of a common seaman; with his coarsened surface voice!

He had the two personalities. Two or three times he had said:

“Why don't you kiss the girl? She's a nice girl, isn't she? You're a poor b——y Tommie, ain't cher? Well, the poor b——y Tommies ought to have all the nice girls they want! That's straight, isn't it? …”

And, even at that time they hadn't known what was going to happen… There are certain cruelties… They had got a four-wheel cab at last. The drunken boy had sat beside the driver; he had insisted… Her little, pale, shrunken face had gazed straight before her… It hadn't been possible to speak; the cab, rattling all over the road, had been pulled up with frightful jerks when the boy had grabbed the reins… The old driver hadn't seemed to mind; but they had had to subscribe all the money in their pockets to pay him after they had carried the boy into the black house…

Tietjens' mind said to him:

“Now when they came to her father's house so nimbly she slipped in, and said: 'There is a fool without and there is a maid within… '”

He answered dully:

“Perhaps that's what it really amounts to…” He had stood at the hall door, she looking out at him with a pitiful face. Then from the sofa within the brother had begun to snore; enormous, grotesque sounds, like the laughter of unknown races from darkness. He had turned and walked down the path, she following him. He had exclaimed:

“It's perhaps too… untidy…”

She had said:

“Yes Yes… Ugly… Too… oh… private! ”

He said, he remembered:

“But… for ever…”

She said, in a great hurry:

“But when you come back… Permanently. And… oh, as if it were in public… I don't know, ” she had added. “Ought we? … I'd be ready…” She added: “I will be ready for anything you ask. ”

He had said at some time: “But obviously… Not under this roof…” And he had added: “We're the sort that… do not! ”

She had answered, quickly too:

“Yes—that's it. We're that sort! ” And then she had asked: “And Ethel's party? Was it a great success? ” It hadn't, she knew, been an inconsequence. He had answered:

“Ah… That's permanent… That's public… There was Rugeley: The Duke… Sylvia brought him. She'll be a great friend! … And the President of the… Local Government Board, I think… And a Belgian… equivalent to Lord Chief Justice… and, of course, Claudine Sandbach… Two hundred and seventy; all of the best, the modestly elated Guggumses said as I left! And Mr Ruggles… Yes! … They're established… No place for me! ”

“Nor for me! ” she had answered. She added: “But I'm glad! ”

Patches of silence ran between them: they hadn't yet got out of the habit of thinking they had to hold up the drunken brother. That had seemed to last for a thousand painful months… Long enough to acquire a habit. The brother seemed to roar: “Haw-Haw—Kuryasch. ” And after two minutes: “Haw—Haw—Kuryasch. ” Hungarian, no doubt!

He said:

“It was splendid to see Vincent standing beside the Duke. Showing him a first edition! Not of course quite the thing for a, after all, wedding party! But how was Rugeley to know that? … And Vincent not in the least servile! He even corrected cousin Rugeley over the meaning of the word colophon! The first time he ever corrected a superior! Established, you see! … And practically cousin Rugeley… Dear Sylvia Tietjens' cousin, so the next to nearest thing! Wife of Lady Macmaster's oldest friend… Sylvia going to them in their—quite modest! —little place in Surrey… As for us, ” he had concluded, “they also serve who only stand and wait…”

She said:

“I suppose the rooms looked lovely. ”

He had answered:

“Lovely… They'd got all the pictures by that beastly fellow up from the rectory study in the dining-room on dark oak panelling… A fair blaze of bosoms and nipples and lips and pomegranates… The tallest silver candlesticks of course… You remember, silver candlesticks and dark oak…”

She said:

“Oh, my dear… Don't… Don't! ”

He had just touched the rim of his helmet with his folded gloves.

“So we just wash out! ” he had said.

She said:

“Would you take this bit of parchment… I got a little Jew girl to write on it in Hebrew: It's 'God bless you and keep you: God watch over you at your goings out and at… '”

He tucked it into his breast pocket.

“The talismanic passage, ” he said. “Of course I'll wear it…”

She said:

“If we could wash out this afternoon… It would make it easier to bear… Your poor mother, you know, she was dying when we last…”

He said:

“You remember that… Even then you… And if I hadn't gone to Lobscheid…”

She said:

“From the first moment I set eyes on you…”

He said:

“And I… I… from the first moment… I'll tell you… If I looked out of a door… It was all like sand… But to the half left a little bubbling up of water. That could be trusted. To keep on for ever… You, perhaps, won't understand. ”

She said:

“Yes! I know! ”

They were seeing landscapes… Sand dunes; close-cropped… Some negligible shipping; a stump-masted brig from Archangel…

“From the first moment, ” he repeated.

She said:

“If we could wash out…”

He said, and for the first moment felt grand, tender, protective:

“Yes, you can, ” he said. “You cut out from this afternoon, just before 4. 58 it was when I said that to you and you consented… I heard the Horse Guards clock… To now… Cut it out; and join time up… It can be done… You know they do it surgically; for some illness; cut out a great length of the bowel and join the tube up… For colitis, I think…”

She said:

“But I wouldn't cut it out… It was the first spoken sign. ”

He said:

“No it wasn't… From the very beginning… with every word…”

She exclaimed:

“You felt that… Too! … We've been pushed, as in a carpenter's vice… We couldn't have got away…” He said: “By God! That's it…”

He suddenly saw a weeping willow in St James's Park; 4. 59! He had just said: “Will you be my mistress to-night? ” She had gone away, half left, her hands to her face… A small fountain; half left. That could be trusted to keep on for ever…

Along the lake side, sauntering, swinging his crooked stick, his incredibly shiny top-hat perched sideways, his claw-hammer coat tails, very long, flapping out behind, in dusty sunlight, his magpie pince-nez gleaming, had come, naturally, Mr Ruggles. He had looked at the girl; then down at Tietjens, sprawled on his bench. He had just touched the brim of his shiny hat. He said:

“Dining at the club to-night? …”

Tietjens said: “No; I've resigned. ”

With the aspect of a long-billed bird chewing a bit of putridity, Ruggles said:

“Oh, but we've had an emergency meeting of the committee… the committee was sitting… and sent you a letter asking you to reconsider…”

Tietjens said:

“I know… I shall withdraw my resignation to-night… And resign again to-morrow morning. ”

Ruggles' muscles had relaxed for a quick second, then they stiffened.

“Oh, I say! ” he had said. “Not that… You couldn't do that… Not to the club! … It's never been done… It's an insult…”

“It's meant to be, ” Tietjens said. “Gentlemen shouldn't be expected to belong to a club that has certain members on its committee. ”

Ruggles' deepish voice suddenly grew very high. “Eh, I say, you know! ” he squeaked.

Tietjens hid said:

“I'm not vindictive… But I am deadly tired: of all old women and their chatter. ”

Ruggles had said:

“I don't…” His face had become suddenly dark brown, scarlet and then brownish purple. He stood droopingly looking at Tietjens' boots.

“Oh! Ah! Well! ” he said at last. “See you at Macmaster's to-night… A great thing, his knighthood. First-class man. ”

That had been the first Tietjens had heard of Macmaster's knighthood; he had missed looking at the honours list of that morning. Afterwards, dining alone with Sir Vincent and Lady Macmaster, he had seen, pinned up, a back view of the Sovereign doing something to Vincent; a photo for next morning's papers. From Macmaster's embarrassed hushings of Edith Ethel's explanation that the honour was for special services of a specific kind Tietjens guessed both the nature of Macmaster's service and the fact that the little man hadn't told Edith Ethel who, originally, had done the work. And—just like his girl—Tietjens had let it go at that. He didn't see why poor Vincent shouldn't have that little bit of prestige at home—under all the monuments! But he hadn't—though through all the evening Macmaster, with the solicitude and affection of a cringing Italian greyhound, had hastened from celebrity to celebrity to hang over Tietjens, and although Tietjens knew that his friend was grieved and appalled, like any woman, at his, Tietjens', going out again to France—Tietjens hadn't been able to look Macmaster again in the face… He had felt ashamed. He had felt, for the first time in his life, ashamed!

Even when he, Tietjens, had slipped away from the party—to go to his good fortune! —Macmaster had come panting down the stairs, running after him, through guests coming up. He had said:

“Wait… You're not going… I want to…” With a miserable and appalled glance he had looked up the stairs; Lady Macmaster might have come out too. With his black, short beard quivering and his wretched eyes turned down, he had said:

“I wanted to explain… This miserable knighthood…”

Tietjens patted him on the shoulder, Macmaster being on the stairs above him.

“It's all right, old man, ” he had said—and with real affection: “We've powlered up and down enough for a little thing like that not to… I'm very glad…”

Macmaster had whispered:

“And Valentine… She's not here to-night…”

He had exclaimed:

“By God! … If I thought…” Tietjens had said: “It's all right. It's all right. She's at another party… I'm going on…”

Macmaster had looked at him doubtingly and with misery, leaning over and clutching the clammy banisters.

“Tell her…” he said…”Good God! You may be killed… I beg you… I beg you to believe… I will… Like the apple of my eye…” In the swift glance that Tietjens took of his face he could see that Macmaster's eyes were full of tears.

They both stood looking down at the stone stairs for a long time.

Then Macmaster had said: “Well…”

Tietjens had said: “Well…” But he hadn't been able to look at Macmaster's eyes, though he had felt his friend's eyes pitiably exploring his own face…”A backstairs way out of it, ” he had thought; a queer thing that you couldn't look in the face of a man you were never going to see again!

“But by God, ” he said to himself fiercely, when his mind came back again to the girl in front of him, “this isn't going to be another backstairs exit… I must tell her… I'm damned if I don't make an effort…”

She had her handkerchief to her face.

“I'm always crying, ” she said…”A little bubbling spring that can be trusted to keep on…”

He looked to the right and to the left. Ruggles or General Someone with false teeth that didn't fit must be coming along. The street with its sooty boskage was clean, empty and silent. She was looking at him. He didn't know how long he had been silent, he didn't know where he had been; intolerable waves urged him towards her.

After a long time he said:

“Well…”

She moved back. She said:

“I won't watch you out of sight… It is unlucky to watch anyone out of sight… But I will never… I will never cut what you said then out of my memory…” She was gone; the door shut. He had wondered what she would never cut out of her memory. That he had asked her that afternoon to be his mistress? …

He had caught, outside the gates of his old office, a transport lorry that had given him a lift to Holborn…

End of ‘Some Do Not’

No More Parades

Ford Madox Ford

(1925)

Part 2 of Parade’s End

Contents

PART ONE

III

PART TWO

PART THREE

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